Time
by JPLE
Summary: "Time flies like an arrow." - Anthony G. Oettinger


Catching Fire: The night before the beginning of the Quarter Quell.

* * *

'Stay,' she said.

It wasn't so much of a command, but you felt compelled to do it anyway. That was how it felt with Katniss. She never _made_ you do anything, never _forced_ your hand. But you'd go to the end of the fucking Panem for the beautiful creature that lay on the bed, and she wouldn't have to lift a finger in return.

The room was a cool, steel tone. It was imposing as it was majestic, and like everything else that existed in the realm of the Capitol, completely futuristic. It lay, with terrible irony, against the age old feelings of anticipation and fear that you felt on the night before the beginning of the end. And in the centre of its horrible newness, lay someone whose soul had been destined to walk to earth with yours since the very beginning of your time.

(Or at least that's how it felt, for you).

It really was grossly unfair, the way your mind worked. It never ceased to replay the moments of absolute bliss, in the middle of such suffering, that you shared with someone who would never be yours. Everyone who lived in a district ruled by the Capitol had to suffer in some way. This was your suffering, your atonement, which was far worse than any Games you could be cast into. It was petty, you supposed, that you should be so preoccupied with pains of the heart when twenty-three other people at this very moment were considering the fact that they might not live another twenty-four hours. You had to attest; there were things worse than death.

The truth was far from bold, and stark. Katniss Everdeen was an enigma that you could never have fully understood. Her mind seemed to operate on a system so entirely different to anyone else you had ever known. And all you wished for was more time to comprehend it.

And yet time was something that you seemed to forever wish for, but never get. It seemed like your whole life had been spent trying to grasp time with a firm hand and will it to stand still. It seemed like you raced against a clock ticking more rapidly with every day that passed. As all humans, your days were finite and numbered, but as the particular person that you were, chosen to lead a life of triumph and tragedy, the days slipped by you so fast it felt like it was over before it had ever really begun.

You hadn't the time to even drink in the picture of perfection that lay in front of you. Much less have to opportunity to give her a life that she deserved, or god forbid, convince her that your story was really one of star-crossed lovers.

For you, it was simply the case of standing by to catch her if she fell (which she almost never did, being far more capable than yourself). It was the case of sacrificing what you could to enhance her chances of success. It was a case of being there to grasp her hand in front of the Capitol and show them how beautiful life could be, even in the throes of darkness.

And just for one moment, in the course of acting out your saga, it might have felt as if it were _real._

The horrible truth was that you sort of enjoyed the show. If you were destined to die tomorrow, or within the next week, then at the very least, you had the opportunity to _feel_ like you had caught the uncatchable bird. You had Katniss to yourself, and just for certain moments, she was yours.

Away from the cameras, the reality set in. It would never matter how _good_ you were, or how sweet. It wouldn't make a difference how many people in the capitol adored your love saga. It wouldn't matter how many times you sacrificed yourself; how many times you offered your flesh, your mind, your heart up on a silver platter in exchange for her own. Katniss had her own agenda, and her own goal to salvage the wreckage of the districts, and you _must_ play your role in achieving the greater good. You must die, and she must live.

Her head rolled into your chest as you lay yourself down, gently on the bed next to her. It's soft mattress seemed to soak up your body, as the fluffy pillows sighed into the bedhead. A delicate hand, however lethal with a bow, fumbled its way onto your chest, grasping the thin cotton of your t-shirt. You closed your eyes and breathed her in.

Honestly, was there a better to way to spend your final night on earth? It was true what you had said earlier, after all. There was no one else on this earth who you cared for more. It was Katniss, or it was nothing, and despite the throes of unrequited love, it felt so _right_ just then.

Your lips found their way to her forehead, pressing softly against them. Your left hand traced soothing circles on her arms as you felt her body slacken into yours. There was things you knew she wanted to say, too. But you didn't need to hear them.

Despite her relaxation in your arms, her presence only seemed to intensify your feelings that bubbled up dangerously inside you, wanting to somehow be released. You felt that frantic beating in your heart and the tight, _desperate_ feeling of wanting to say what you needed to, but you bit down on your lip firmly to stop yourself. It wasn't right at this moment. You loved her more than anything, but she didn't need to be reminded of that right now. She knew it, anyway. Whether she reciprocated it at all was an entirely different matter; one that you didn't want to know the answer to at that moment.

Sighing deeply you kissed her forehead lightly again, and surprisingly, a small smile found its way to the corner of your lips. Time was something that had been cruelly taken from you, there was no denying. But right now, you found yourself with ten hours ahead of you in a world of just Katniss and Peeta.

It wasn't nearly enough. But then again, for the hopeless romantic that you were, no amount of time with her would ever be.


End file.
